


Too Much Closure For Comfort

by weytani



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Con Man AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weytani/pseuds/weytani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's exactly what you think it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Closure For Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> so gross but so necessary

By the time Shaw managed to storm off and lock herself in the bathroom, the spray cheese splattered thickly across her face had started to dry into a sticky layer of orange mess that made her skin itch.

She looked at herself in the mirror and almost recoiled at the image. It was everywhere;  down her neck, congealed in her hair. This is what she got for storming into the middle of John and Lionel's five year feud, and really, who but Lionel could hold a grudge that long over sabotaged donuts?

A homemade spray cheese bomb was creative, she'd give him that.

But Shaw was going to kill him for letting her accidentally set the damn thing off. Kill him in ways that would make her character from their show - their long-cancelled, but never quite _over_ show - smile like a Cheshire cat.

Lionel should have known that John wouldn't be the first one through the living room door. Everybody at this stupid reunion knew damn well she couldn't be in a room with Root for that long without making a long string of really bad decisions, or ducking out with her tail between her legs.

And hell, she really wasn't one to run away from her problems. But Root was wearing a dress (and didn't she usually prefer pants when the cameras weren't rolling?), bending over the coffee table like she absolutely couldn't circle around it to reach the salsa. And then there was John, giving her knowing looks while Shaw clenched her teeth at the ceiling.

She hadn't seen Root in three months, since they- since _Miami_ , and Shaw definitely hadn't missed having her around. The flirting was as bad as ever. Shaw was almost certain Root was inching across the sofa in her direction before she made a break for it.

Before she got a face full of processed cheese.

Looking around at Harold's spotless white bathroom, already reaching for a towel to stain with orange gloop, Shaw wondered how long she could stay inside before someone came looking for her.

There were three sharp knocks at the door, a short pause between each one so they were drawn out teasingly.

Fuck.

"Need a hand in there, Sameen?"

"Not a chance," Shaw snapped at the closed door.

No reply. That was an unusually quick surrender as far as Root was concerned. Shaw started to wring the towel in her hands, pursing her lips in suspicion.

She almost leapt three feet in the air when someone pressed bodily against her from behind. She caught Root's smirking reflection in the mirror before spinning around and backing towards the door. "Are you _sure_? That's quite a mess."

"How did you-?" Across the room, Shaw noticed the open window. This was the second floor but, well, Root always had insisted on doing her own stunts. (As did Shaw.) "Never mind."

Shaw's back hit the door with a thud, and Root stepped forward into her personal space, completely shameless now that they were alone. Not that she'd had any kind of shame with Shaw's hand down her pants at that cocktail bar in Miami.

But that was a one-time thing; one night, and then one morning after that may have carried on into the afternoon. But it was less than 24 hours and thus still qualified as one time. Shaw was completely writing off the horrible day in her trailer five years ago, when running lines had somehow led to them making out against the minibar.

That hadn't gone anywhere- mostly because they'd been called onto set as soon as Root got a hand up her shirt, but it still didn't count.

Miami counted though. They both knew it, and maybe she'd given Root the wrong idea by letting her stay the night. It was the alcohol, for sure. And the way Root didn't try to force any kind of cuddling post-orgasm. She just smiled at Shaw, completely sated, and then rolled over to the other side of the bed.

It had seemed harmless at the time.

"You really want to do this here," Shaw asked as Root's hands came to rest flat against the door, just above her head. "With my face covered in spray cheese and four people in the next room?"

"Three months is a long time to wait..."

The first retort Shaw had, ("Get over it," or maybe something better if Root would quit staring at her long enough to let her think clearly) turned into mumbled gibberish when Root's head ducked down and her open mouth met the underside of Shaw's jaw.

It was a ridiculous sound, but Root seemed far too distracted licking dairy product off Shaw's neck to tease her about it. Shaw managed to tamp down any other noises that formed at Root's attentions, but let her hands settle on Root's waist, pulling mindlessly as a warm tongue trailed over her skin.

"You don't even like that fake cheese crap," Shaw muttered, exhaling a heavy breath when Root bit down.

Root flicked her tongue under Shaw's ear, grinning against her earlobe. "Mm. No," she agreed, "but I like you."

Gross. Maybe more gross than having Easy Cheese licked off your face. But, Shaw decided, catching Root's lips in a kiss when she tried to lick her chin, three months really _was_ a long time.

She pushed at Root's sides with her palms and Root let herself be forced backwards, arms looping around Shaw's neck to keep her close. They took slow steps across the room, kissing messily, and Shaw almost succeeded in driving her into the tub like she'd been planning.

Unfortunately, Root was still a sly asshole, and she managed to take a strong grip of Shaw's shoulder and spin them just before the backs of her knees hit the edge. At least Shaw's reflexes allowed her to catch hold of the rim in time to lower herself, rather than face the clumsy sprawl she'd had in mind for Root.

(What could she say? They were both assholes.)

For a moment they just looked at each other; Shaw scowling up at her in defeat and Root looking down, grinning in that smug way that said, "You really thought I'd let you top?"

And of course, that expression was just as hot as Shaw remembered.

Suddenly Root was lifting her knees up and climbing into the tub after her, and Shaw got a nice long view up Root's dress before she sat down over her stomach.

"Just like Miami," Root said. She ran a thumb over Shaw's cheek, rubbing at one of the smudges she hadn't gotten her mouth on earlier.

Not exactly like Miami actually; this was far less satisfying than body shots and a private hot tub at the end of the evening. But it still came down to Shaw on her back with Root straddling her, so there really wasn't much to complain about. If only her skin didn't feel so sticky.

Root let her hips roll down against Shaw's stomach as she leaned closer, pulling on Shaw's bottom lip with her teeth but not kissing her.

Shaw ran her tongue over the bite marks when she let go, smirking. "I remember being a lot less sober in Miami."

"There's a bottle of whiskey in Harry's kitchen, I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing."

"Not like he can't afford another thirty just like it."

"Exactly," Root beamed, running her fingers through Shaw's hair and wrinkling her nose when they came back sticky and neon orange. "But first, you need to clean up."

"What," Shaw said with a teasing grin, "I thought you were getting a taste for it."

Root pulled at her hair in response, apparently willing to face the unappealing mess if it meant working her up a bit more. This time when she leaned in, it was to kiss Shaw roughly on the mouth, and Shaw let her tongue slide over Root's own as she wrapped an arm around her back.

Just when she was starting to really get into it, Root pulled away and climbed out of the tub.

"Ten minutes. I'll tell the others we'll catch up some other time."

"They're going to know why we're leaving," Shaw called after her, still flat on her back.

"It's not like this is the first time," Root all but sang, shutting the bathroom door on her way out.

Left alone, still filthy and now more than a little aroused, Shaw stared at the tiles and slowly remembered why she'd ended up there in the first place.

The plan had been to _not_ hook up with Root this time.

"Damn it," Shaw grumbled, kicking at the bath with her foot half-heartedly.

But then she thought of Root, grabbing that bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter, which lead to thinking about body shots and Root's stomach and the way it quivered when she was telling Shaw where to put her mouth...

_Screw Miami._

She was going to blame that place for every Root-related mistake she was sure to make today. And probably tomorrow as well.

With that in mind, Shaw peeled her shirt off and reached for the temperature dial.


End file.
